She thinks he’s playing dumb; she thinks he’s trying to guilt her into staying, but she’s misinterpreting his question entirely. The question that she’d refused to even answer — why. Why was she doing this? This wasn’t about that sweet little girl whose name he can’t even bring himself to think, as if he’s somehow lost that right, just like he lost her, just like he’s losing her mother —
The knot caught in his throat prevents swallowing, and he has to close his eyes hard to fight back the burn and sting of tears. Did he know this was coming? Of course. He’s not blind, and even if he had been, even a blind man could have seen this event coming on the horizon. But the inevitability of it didn’t answer the one question he had about it.
Why now? Why today? She says, herself, she still loves him, but she’s not telling him what he’s done wrong.
"Why are you doin’ this, Joce?"
He poses the question again, finally turning to face her, lips tugged into a tight frown. He doesn’t take a step towards her, makes no move to close the gap between them — that chasm is wider than can be breached by a simple step forward. There’s a fissure between them, gaping wide and ready to swallow him whole, and he doesn’t even know why.
Was it the work? The fact that someone had to do a job? He couldn’t stay with her — he couldn’t lie in bed beside her all day every day, couldn’t be there every moment of the day. They grieved in different ways — he’d thrown himself into his work. Saving people, somehow, it helped — but he couldn’t save her, couldn’t save Joanna, and though he’d always come home to Jocelyn when he could…
It was hard, to watch her. Hard to see that glow that had always surrounded her dim and darken, until she was less of a star and more of a black hole, a supernova sucking its own light inwards and extinguishing it. Maybe he was a coward, but watching her had felt like losing her, every moment he sat and tried to hold her hand, tried to make her eat, tried to take care of her — it had felt like a hospice treatment, bedside manner for the soon-to-be deceased.
His specialization is in helping the living pull through, to help them fight and claw their way back to life, even if he has to drag them, kicking and screaming.
What could he possibly have done for someone who behaved as if they’d already died?
Joanna — the name leaves a sweetness on the tip of his tongue, and a cloying bitterness at the back of it, and he nearly chokes at even the thought of it — had died in that car wreck, Joanna had, but Jocelyn might as well have gone with her, for all the life she’d shown in the time since.
He kept asking why and why and why? But the truth is that it was time for her to go. She didn't cheat, nor did he - to her knowledge, but she couldn't do this. She couldn't wait around for him being faithful that she'll be happy once and for all. His come what may attitude towards everything didn't make sense. He was always bad with these kind of confrontations, anyways.
She'll take a chance on leaving. She was dead inside, already. Maybe, and just maybe, it could help him too. Because, yes -- while she was mad that he put all his energy and focus into his work to deal with coping. That's what happened after his dad, and it's no different with Joanna. And she should've been used to it, by now. She should've, but she wasn't and that's just too much.
"Clearly, I can't stay, darlin'. You're only going to remind me of what happened and I can't deal with that. I know what you're doing with your work, you did it when your dad ... went. And I know, I know. But I need to take a chance on leaving, because if I stay--"
If I stay, you're only going to bury one more person.
It's not spoken and the words fail to come out, but she can't say it. Not to him, not to anyone.
"I'm more damaged than I was when I was seventeen, and maybe it's best if you and I just go our separate ways."
It's not what she was going to say, but it was better than saying to someone who you committed your life to that if you stayed, you were going to die. He had a bigger body count than she did, and it wasn't fair to him.
That's what it was about. Losing Joanna damaged her and she couldn't keep taking it out on him, acting like it was his fault when it wasn't. She had some sense of morality, still, despite what happened. It's funny, when you think about it. Leonard was the only man she really brought herself to getting close with after having issues as a teenager. Because he was good, and he was the one she chose. Maybe it was because they were both damaged and they needed someone, but they fixed each other... until the accident.
And here she was, leaving him.
Not because she wanted to, but because she had no reason to stay and add an extra body to his life that he had to watch be cremated or buried next to the empty grave with a tombstone for a little girl who never got to take her first breath, or first steps, or have her first word be 'daddy'. She couldn't do it to him, and it was for him that she was doing it for. Not for any other selfish reasons.
"Just ... sign. I'll get my lawyer to take a look at it, when I see her tomorrow."
vaporwave
stormborns
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
